it. When one gives a dying man an immense
bowl of hot wine, which has also been narcotized,--for the Perrache
woman slept all night in a sort of lethargy after drinking a small glass
of it,--it is evident that the catastrophe has been hastened."

"I am ignorant, monsieur," said Cerizet, with dignity, "of what Madame
Cardinal may have given to her uncle. I have no doubt committed a
great piece of thoughtlessness in assisting this woman to obtain an
inheritance to which she assured me she had legal rights; but as to
attempting the life of that old pauper, I am quite incapable of such a
thing; nothing of the kind ever entered my mind."

"You wrote me this letter, I think," said du Portail, abruptly, taking
from beneath a bohemian glass bowl a paper which he offered to Cerizet.

"A letter?" replied Cerizet, with the hesitation of a man who doesn't
know whether to lie or speak the truth.

"I am quite sure of what I say," continued du Portail. "I have a mania
for autographs, and I possess one of yours, obtained at the period
when the Opposition exalted you to the glorious rank of martyr. I have
compared the two writings, and I find that you certainly wrote me,
yesterday, the letter which you hold in your hand, informing me of the
money embarrassments of young la Peyrade at the present moment."

"Well," said Cerizet, "knowing that you had given a home to Mademoiselle
de la Peyrade, who is probably cousin of Theodose, I thought I
recognized in you the mysterious protector from whom, on more than one
occasion, my friend has received the most generous assistance. Now, as
I have a sincere affection for that poor fellow, it was in his interests
that I permitted myself--"

"You did quite right," interrupted du Portail. "I am delighted to have
fallen in with a friend of la Peyrade. I ought not to conceal from you
that it was this particular fact which protected you last night. But
tell me, what is this about notes for twenty-five thousand francs?
Is our friend so badly off in his affairs? Is he leading a dissipated
life?"

"On the contrary," replied Cerizet, "he's a puritan. Given to the
deepest piety, he did not choose to take, as a barrister, any other
cases but those of the poor. He is now on the point of making a rich
marriage."

"Ah! is he going to be married? and to whom?"

"To a Demoiselle Colleville, daughter of the secretary of the mayor
of the 12th arrondissement. In herself, the girl has no fortune, but a
certa